


Last Request

by pantykinksam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dead Dean, Dead Sam, Episode: s05e16 Dark Side of the Moon, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Fluff and Angst, Heaven, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 18:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4574697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantykinksam/pseuds/pantykinksam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sam.” The name fell easily from Dean’s lips, and it felt tart and sweet alike on his tongue. Hadn’t spoken that name with such love since he’d held a happy, living Sam in his arms again. Before he left Dean alone. When Sam kissed him it was gentle, delicate even, and it tastes like tears, but it’s /Sam/, and that’s all Dean could ever hope for. And he gets it now. Takes a quick glance at the shadows against the wall, and smiles sadly. If someone asked Dean what he pictured as his perfect heaven while he was alive to think about it, he probably would’ve said a strip of road and the Impala, Sammy by his side, Mom and Dad in a house of their own, the roadhouse and Bobby’s all in eyeshot, everyone they’ve ever loved and lost in close view, but now, now he got it. This was where he was supposed to be. With Sam, and only Sam, because wasn’t that how it had always been?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Request

**Author's Note:**

> Let's see let's see this may very well be my most emo samdean fic but that's ok!! ! ! ! !! ! ! !! its so cute n angsty so im ok w that

It was faint at first, then entirely surrounding, blanketing him like a fresh layer of snow he was just waking up to. This light was different, though. It was warm and dim like a birthday candle, and it melted into his skin like butter on a pancake, but it grew to the strength of the light of thousands of slowly dying sunsets, warmer and brighter with every second. It was then that he noticed the stillness. There was absolute peace. No wind to stir the grass and leaves, because there was no grass or leaves to stir. No water to drip or flow from the sky or the ground below, because there was no ground below. 

Wherever Dean was, it wasn’t heaven and it wasn’t earth. He was surprised to find that he could breathe again, and he took advantage, though the breath seemed to die as soon as it left his mouth. Breathing. That was something he’d never thought he’d miss again. He closed his eyes, remembered the sounds of the ocean and his own voice calling out for Sam. /Sam/. In those frozen seconds, Dean could swear he was still underwater, in the last moment of his life, beyond touch and sound and motion. Thought of Sam. Hugged that thought close like it was his brother himself, keeping it close. There was a strange sense of tranquility to it, and this kind of thick silence would normally chill him, but he felt as calm as the space around him. The calm caressed his skin like the touch of his brothers feather-weight fingertips prancing along his stomach. As pure as his fuckin’ love for Sam, sheltering him from whatever uncertainty he had about this place. 

Just as soon as it came, it vanished, and Dean was enveloped in darkness, as if every particle around him had ebbed into nothingness. He was in a room now, so white that it would make the snow he pictured before look grey, the kind that seared into his retina and made him temporarily blind. He heard voices this time, and as soon as his eyes adjusted, he could make out a door a few feet away. Dean grinned. Sam was close, and he could feel it. He could see his own shadow, among shadows of other moving bodies, surrounding the walls of the room and dripping onto the ground. Familiar voices now, ones that he never thought he’d hear again. He could pick out a few of them, and frowned when he didn’t hear Sam’s.  
Felt like hours later, but the door crept open, and Sam stepped from the shadows, stealing his breath and the beat of his heart. His legs feel like lead, but he finds a way to melt into Sam’s form, folded like paper, soaked with briny tears. 

A warm smile slipped from Sam’s parted lips, sweet and sad and familiar, a twist of a smile as if he was trying to keep the tears in, and Sam wiped calloused fingers across wet cheeks, and when he pulls Dean’s eyes to his, it’s as if they’re eating him, much like Dean, who was still trying to decide if this Sam, younger and beautiful, and so goddamned pretty, wasn’t part of an almost forgotten dream.   
“Sam.” The name fell easily from Dean’s lips, and it felt tart and sweet alike on his tongue. Hadn’t spoken that name with such love since he’d held a happy, living Sam in his arms again. Before he left Dean alone. When Sam kissed him it was gentle, delicate even, and it tastes like tears, but it’s /Sam/, and that’s all Dean could ever hope for. And he gets it now. Takes a quick glance at the shadows against the wall, and smiles sadly. If someone asked Dean what he pictured as his perfect heaven while he was alive to think about it, he probably would’ve said a strip of road and the Impala, Sammy by his side, Mom and Dad in a house of their own, the roadhouse and Bobby’s all in eyeshot, everyone they’ve ever loved and lost in close view, but now, now he got it. This was where he was supposed to be. With Sam, and only Sam, because wasn’t that how it had always been?   
“Dean.” He smiled and the sun fell- toppled to the ground and slipped it’s way under Dean’s skin and into his heart, and with all that light inside of him, it was only natural he’d give in to the impulse of smiling back, the sun shining through his eyes, and he was fucking /happy/ again. The tilt of Sam’s chin told him everything, and Dean’s lips whispered against Sam’s one last time before he pressed heated lips against his, warming his soul, from the crook of his elbows to the cracks between his toes. The tips of his ears were painted with color, and he realized he was hooked, stringed along like a goddamn fish to a worm.   
“Dean.” That one word and he was drawn close, one word that can paint the picture Dean wants to see, one of Sam and Dean and /only/ Sam and Dean. There was a glow in Sam’s eyes, a light for them alone, and he clasped Dean’s hand in his own, and lead him to the open door, the heady scent of Sam in Dean’s very bones, and it made his head pulse and spin, and he reached for the door with Sam beside him, pressed against his hip like he was six months old again.   
He turned to face his brother, eyes wet and wide in wonder, peering through to the road ahead. Faced the pavement with a sad smile, then turned to look at Sam, who nodded in encouragement. Took that first step into paradise together, hand in hand and side by side.


End file.
